


Heavy-Handed

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [151]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promptfic. Merrill/Ketojan, won't let you go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy-Handed

His hands are heavy. But then again, they’ve been weighed down by manacles for much of his conscious memory. It is no longer easy to reach up to pluck a dry leaf from the air, or to simply stretch his arms until the knots of bunched muscle in his back snap undone. These hands of his wrench power from the air itself, burning and shocking in turn. Ponderous. Deadly. Untouchable.

So its even more surprising when he feels something cool and reassuring slip under his palm, and close itself around one hand. Instinct calls forth his power. Restraint kills it below the skin. The elven mage feels the tingle, however, and giggles.

“Hrawr,” he breathes through the cord that binds his lips.

“Merrill, what are you doing?” the Hawke repeats in his stead.

“Holding his hand. What’s it look like?” Merrill struggles a little, then hoists his great paw upward. Her pale peach fingers have red tips, like blood and fire. “I thought he looked a little bit lonely. It’s always good to have someone holding your hand when you’re scared and alone.”

He  _could_  wriggle his hand out of her grasp. Gently, of course. But there is something about that touch, alive and green and growing, that douses the fire and dulls the lightning. With another low grunt that disguises his lack of reluctance, he gently tightens his grip. She looks up, surprised, then smiles. It is the unexpected flash of a firefly in a boy’s palm. Hawke turns away, and they press on.

A storm is rendered a blessed summer shower. His hands are lighter now.


End file.
